WHAT IS LEADERSHIP?Leadership is an interactive conversation that pulls people toward becoming comfortable with the language of personal responsibility and commitment.

LEADERSHIP TIPS“The crux of leadership development that works is self-directed learning: intentionally developing or strengthening an aspect of who you are or who you want to be, or both.” Primal Leadership by Daniel Goleman, Richard Boyatzis & Annie McKee (Harvard Business School Press)

Leadership Through Sharing

No doubt you have heard "The Cookie Thief" poem by Valerie Cox from "A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul" Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen that goes like this:

A woman was waiting at an airport one night,With several long hours before her flight.She hunted for a book in the airport shop,Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book, but happened to see,That the man beside her, as bold as could be,Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag between,Which she tried to ignore, to avoid a scene.

She read, munched cookies, and watched the clock,As the gutsy 'cookie thief' diminished her stock.She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,Thinking, 'If I wasn't so nice, I'd blacken his eye!'

With each cookie she took, he took one too.When only one was left, she wondered what he'd do.With a smile on his face and a nervous laugh,He took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other.She snatched it from him and thought, 'Oh brother,This guy has some nerve, and he's also rude,Why, he didn't even show any gratitude!'

She had never known when she has been so galled,And sighed with relief when her flight was called.She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate,Refusing to look back at the 'thieving ingrate.'

She boarded the plane and sank in her seat,Then sought her book, which was almost complete.As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise:There was her bag of cookies in front of her eyes!

'If mine are here,' she moaned with despair,'Then the others were his and he tried to share!'Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!

The Real "Cookie" Story

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person is me.

I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong. I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table. I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind. Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase. It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies. You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, What am I going to do?

In the end I thought Nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, That settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie. Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice…” I mean, it doesn’t really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away. Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back.

A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies. The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.

Knowledge is power and sharing it can build even more capability for the person sharing and the organization. Yet, this concept can be a hard sell to those who have been raised on the belief that giving away their knowledge is surrendering their power.

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No doubt you have heard "The Cookie Thief" poem by Valerie Cox from "A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul" Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen that goes like this:

A woman was waiting at an airport one night,With several long hours before her flight.She hunted for a book in the airport shop,Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book, but happened to see,That the man beside her, as bold as could be,Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag between,Which she tried to ignore, to avoid a scene.

She read, munched cookies, and watched the clock,As the gutsy 'cookie thief' diminished her stock.She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,Thinking, 'If I wasn't so nice, I'd blacken his eye!'

With each cookie she took, he took one too.When only one was left, she wondered what he'd do.With a smile on his face and a nervous laugh,He took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other.She snatched it from him and thought, 'Oh brother,This guy has some nerve, and he's also rude,Why, he didn't even show any gratitude!'

She had never known when she has been so galled,And sighed with relief when her flight was called.She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate,Refusing to look back at the 'thieving ingrate.'

She boarded the plane and sank in her seat,Then sought her book, which was almost complete.As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise:There was her bag of cookies in front of her eyes!

'If mine are here,' she moaned with despair,'Then the others were his and he tried to share!'Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!

The Real "Cookie" Story

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person is me.

I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong. I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table. I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind. Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase. It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies. You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, What am I going to do?

In the end I thought Nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, That settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie. Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice…” I mean, it doesn’t really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away. Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back.

A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies. The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.

Knowledge is power and sharing it can build even more capability for the person sharing and the organization. Yet, this concept can be a hard sell to those who have been raised on the belief that giving away their knowledge is surrendering their power.